We reach my bedroom and she pulls away from me, heading for the bed that takes centre stage. She starts to strip as she walks and my throat tightens. But it’s not all lust. There’s a sense of her belonging here, a sense of comfort. And the fact that she clearly feels it too isn’t lost on me.
I follow suit, taking off my jacket and unbuttoning my shirt. I don’t remember ever doing this. Bringing a woman home and just undressing as if it’s a nightly thing. In fact, I can probably count the number of women I’ve had in here on one hand.
I sit on the edge of the bed, stripping off my shoes, my socks. I feel her weight as she slips onto the bed too, the quilt shifting as she lifts it and slides under. The warmth that’s been setting up camp in my chest since I came back into her life swells inside me.
I stand to unbutton my trousers and strip both those and my underwear away in one swoop, tossing them to the side.
‘Do you always sleep naked?’ she murmurs, her words drawn out and low.
I look at her as she blinks at me, her eyes heavy.
The quilt is pulled to her chin and a pillow cocoons her head. She looks comfortable and inviting all at once.
‘Yes.’
I smile and climb in beside her, careful not to let the air-conditioned draught in too much. Immediately she scoots over, resting her head on my chest, and my smile grows as I wrap my arm around her and hold her there.
‘Lucas...?’
‘Hmm...?’
‘Don’t you get lonely?’
I flinch and mask it with a shrug; her simple question has cut deep. ‘I’m too busy to get lonely.’
She shakes her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
She sounds strange, remorseful, so different from how she’s been up until now, and I find I’m struggling for words. Too busy fending off the truth.
‘You don’t really have anyone—thanks to my family.’
Oh, God. Too close.
My gut writhes as I squeeze her shoulder. I’m aiming to reassure, but I can’t speak past the chill.
She presses a kiss to my chest and turns her head to rest her cheek over my pec.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispers, and I feel a damp trickle over my skin—she’s crying.
‘Evangeline...?’
Oh, God, don’t cry, baby.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She shakes her head again, her breath rasping. ‘You don’t deserve it—you don’t deserve how my family has treated you. You don’t deserve any of it.’
I turn her onto her back and gaze down into her face. Her eyes are clamped shut, tears escaping to trail down her face.
I press a kiss to her brow. ‘Evangeline, look at me.’
She doesn’t.
I lightly kiss the bridge of her nose. ‘Please?’
Her lashes flutter open.
‘You have nothing to be sorry for.’
I seal my words with another kiss, ending any denial with the gentle pressure of my mouth. I only want to comfort her, to make her happy again, but as her body curves into mine her nakedness draws me in, and my body stirs, my heart warms.